(Guest Post by Matthew Ladner)
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A state for a stage, governors to act
And lobbyists to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Christie, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash’d in like hounds, should vouchers, sword and outsourcing
Crouch for employment. But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
The vasty gardens of New Jersey? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very debates
That did affright the air at Trenton?
O, pardon! Since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty forces,
One an immovable union blob and the other
an irresistible gubernatorial force
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide on man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think when we talk of vetoes, that you see them
Printing their proud script i’ the receiving bill;
For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our policymakers,
Carry them here and there; jumping o’er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.